


Support

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode: s04e23 25, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-08
Updated: 2005-10-08
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Abbey deals with Zoey's kidnapping before finding out about Shareef's assassination.





	Support

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Support**

**by:** Caroline 

**Character(s):** Jed, Abbey  
**Pairing(s):** Jed/Abbey  
**Category(s):** Angst  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** Abbey deals with Zoey's kidnapping before finding out about Shareef's assassination.  


G*d, I wish he would stop pacing. He's annoying the HELL out of me. Isn't there anywhere in this damned mansion he can go? I mean, this is the White House. I can't believe he gave power to Walken. I can't decide whether it was a good or bad move. I say give the damn bastards what they want so I can get my baby back. But, I know they can't do that. That's why Jed had Walken step in. I can't help but blame him. Jed, that is. He is (or, rather, was) the damn president. They took her to get to him and his office. Now, I know I can't REALLY blame it all on him. But, damnit, I'm a mother whose child has been abducted and I need to blame someone I can yell at. That pacing is so irritating. He's gonna wear a path into this rather expensive rug. I can't believe I'm thinking about the damn rug right now! My baby's out there somewhere. He stopped pacing. He's looking at me. He looks so guilty. How can I blame him? His own guilt is tearing him to pieces. Screw it; I'm pissed. Damn, now he's sitting on the sofa. Jed, I know it's not your fault. He's thinking about trying to hold my hand- I see his hand struggling to make up its mind. Jed, get her back. Help me cope with this. I need you. His hand finally takes mine- cautiously, as though expecting rejection. I don't move a muscle except to squeeze his hand for dear life. I hear him let out a soft sigh of relief. I can't look at him. Jed, make me wake up from this horrible nightmare. He's watching me- I can feel his eyes on me. I put my head on his shoulder, so he knows I'm still here and also so I don't have to look into those big blue eyes. Instead, I look at our hands. Our fingers entwined. His slightly calloused hand and my perfectly manicured one. My knuckles are white from squeezing his, but he hasn't flinched. He wants me to look at him. He wants me to look at him. After over thirty years of marriage, you can tell things by just being in the same room with your spouse. I can't do it though, I'll lose it. It took me so long to get it back together the first few times. I need to look at him. To know that he's okay. That I'm okay. More importantly, that we're okay. Jed, I need you. Finally, I muster up the strength to look at him- somehow. He's looking at me- I knew he was. His eyes meet mine. I see so much pain there it hurts me deep in my heart- I can feel it breaking. Dear G*d, Jed. I realize I'm crying silent tears when Jed catches a tear with his free hand, examining it as if it holds the answer to Zoey's whereabouts. Then, our eyes lock again. Jed, don't look at me like that, I need you to be strong. He pulls me to him, never unlocking our fingers. He's whispering into my hair. I can't hear him, but I know what he's saying. Don't apologize, Jed. It's not your fault. I want to call out to him. To just say his name, but my voice betrays me. I pull back, he tenses. Is he so strung up that he thinks I'm mad? I look into his ocean-blue eyes, so void of the happiness I'm used to seeing there. I realize how rarely, though, I've actually seen it there lately. I cup his cheek with my free hand. I kiss him gently. Not passionate or forced. Just a kiss between two people in pain supporting each other. I'm not mad, Jed, I just want my baby girl back. 

THE END 


End file.
